


newfound.

by katified



Series: new design. [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, i just really love steve a whole lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katified/pseuds/katified
Summary: Sometimes, Steve wonders why he survived in the ice for so long, only to end up in an era where most of the loved ones he knew are either dead or fading; it's lonely at times, but he's managed to find a new family to take solace in—along with an old friend he thought he'd never see again.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers
Series: new design. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1456918
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	newfound.

**Author's Note:**

> I briefly debated titling this "S.S.D.D. (Same Steve, Different Decade)" but decided against it.
> 
> Enjoy! ♡

i.

Being left to his own devices for an extended period of time often made Steve a little restless, especially in a place like the Avenger’s Compound; with most of the team busy either with missions or personal affairs and Bucky undergoing a routine psychological evaluation, the soldier had little to do besides run laps and catch up on the news. Sure, plenty of shows and movies had been made in the past few decades, but he preferred to watch those with company.

Just when he started to consider putting on a documentary, FRIDAY spoke up, voice gentle, **“Captain Rogers, Wanda is asking for you.”**

“Is she in her room?” he asked—likely, since he hadn’t seen her around all day, and upon receiving affirmation, he stood from the couch and made his way there, then raised a hand to knock on the closed door. “Wanda, may I come in?”

Even with his enhanced hearing, he nearly missed the noise that followed, the attempt to say _yes, please._ He turned the handle, more concerned than before, and entered to find her sitting on her bed, elbows on her knees and her head and shoulders bowed. As he took careful steps closer, she nearly glanced up, only to drop her gaze once more. “Sorry if, um, I’m interrupting anything. Vis isn’t here, and FRIDAY said you were available,” she murmured.

Taking the acknowledgement as permission, Steve settled himself on the end of her bed, close but not overbearingly so. “Honestly,” he kept his tone light, “I was getting bored with nothing to do, so I’m all yours for however long you need. If you want to talk about it, I’m a pretty good listener.”

Wanda pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side, gaze flitting between a couple pairs of shoes lined up against the wall opposite her. Though unsteady, she did her best to mimic his tone. “If I don’t want to talk about it, are you a bad listener, then?”

“Only one way to find out.” He offered a smile, and she looked his way for the first, her lips twitching slightly but proving unable to return the gesture; a moment later, she looked back down to her clasped hands. If she didn’t want to talk, he wouldn’t pressure her—and if she wanted him to stay, he wouldn’t leave until she felt better.

For a few minutes, the two sat in silence, and Wanda made eye contact a couple times before swiftly glancing away. And then, twisting one of her rings around her finger, she said, distant and wistful, “The people in our city always had so little. Pietro… he always did what he could to ease their suffering. Took from those who didn’t need to give to those who did. I know that stealing is wrong, but…”

“Sometimes,” Steve assured when she trailed off in hesitation, “the right thing to do doesn’t align with what the law dictates. He put himself at risk to protect the people around him, the people he cared about, and that’s noble of him.”

“He was my hero.” A smile, small and genuine, pulled at the corners of her lips. The longer she spoke, the heavier her Sokovian accent—which she’d been learning to faze out of her voice during her spy training with Natasha—became, returning to the way it sounded when Steve first met her. “I always told him that he’d get in trouble, but he cared more for the well-being of others over his own. It was all we ever wanted. To protect our people.”

Not for the first time, Steve wished for the chance to know Pietro better; he wished the same for all his other fallen comrades. There were many he’d considered friends and family—almost all of them gone when he awoke in a new century full of strangers. On sleepless nights, his thoughts drifted, countless scenarios playing out in his mind. He wondered what people would think of him if they saw him now, never felt too sure about any particular possibility. But he did know one fact: “Pietro would be proud of you, Wanda.”

One nod, then another, then more followed rapidly as she held a hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the tears that threatened to fall. When she finally risked a breath, the words, “I just really miss him,” tumbled from her lips, unbidden and barely audible and followed by her choking on a sob.

Steve rested a hand on her shoulder, and she caved, curling in to press her face against his shoulder as he cried. No words could quell her grief; thus, he said nothing, merely wrapping an arm around her and doing his best to provide support.

If nothing else, neither of them were alone—not in this century, and not in the last.

ii.

“I do kind of miss the beard.”

A nudge accompanied the comment as Steve and Natasha took their seats on the couch, and Sam followed suit a moment later after setting a bowl of popcorn down on the table. It wasn’t the first time the spy made such a remark, and more than likely, it wouldn’t be the last, either. “What I don’t miss,” the soldier mused, “is being on the run. I have infinitely more respect for you now than ever before.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not for everyone,” Sam chimed in as he pressed the play button on the remote and leaned back into the cushions. Animations played, showcasing the production companies responsible for the movie.

Natasha rolled her eyes, feigning offense. “All I’m saying is that you didn’t have to shave it off. Wouldn’t Captain America look good with a beard?”

“It served its purpose, and now it’s gone.” Despite trying and failing to grow facial hair as a teenager, Steve ultimately decided that he preferred the feeling of being clean-shaven; his need to be less recognizable outweighed that preference for a few months, but times changed. He knew that better than anyone. “You’ll just have to get over it.

Quiet music gradually increased in intensity, and Natasha reached into the bowl and threw a few pieces of popcorn at the soldier in lieu of a proper comeback. With a snort, Sam reminded, “This is _my_ couch, you know.”

iii.

Too busy with cooking, Steve didn’t bother checking the caller ID when his phone rang, instead answering it with a standard greeting and pausing as he heard the chipper young voice that met his ears. _“Hey, Captain Rogers, are you busy today? It’s fine if you are, of course, but if you aren’t, I have this art project I’m a little stuck on and heard you might be able to help out. Only if you want to!”_

“Sure,” the soldier agreed readily, taste-testing the sauce and then adding some more spices. “Do you have my address?”

_“Oh, yeah, I do. Mr. Stark gave it to me for like, emergencies and stuff. So I’ll see you soon!”_

Peter didn’t keep him waiting for long; if Steve had to guess, the teen only remembered to call once he was already halfway there, and the thought provided no small amount of amusement. Soon enough, the two settled down at the table with food and sketchbooks and various pencils filling the space between them. Steve looked over everything. “What all do you need help with?”

While the teen hadn’t intentionally come over for lunch, he still happily accepted the food served with profuse gratitude, and he chewed and swallowed his first bite before answering, “Uh, I already know about principles and composition and stuff ‘cause—y’know—photography and all, but as it turns out… I don’t know much about drawing.”

Well fortunately, that turned out to be Steve’s exact expertise. “I thought there were online tutorials for everything nowadays,” he said, curiosity getting the best of him while he ate. “YouTube and all.”

For a moment, Peter stiffened, but he perked up again before the soldier could assure that he didn’t mind helping out. “There are, but then I wouldn’t get to come and spend time with you, could I?”

“You’ll also be the only kid in your class who gets to say that they personally got help from Captain America.”

“Well, yeah,” Peter acknowledged, head and shoulders bobbing in some mix between a nod and a shrug. “Actual you is way cooler than anything else, though. Plus, I don’t really like attention, so…”

If nothing else, Steve’s circus monkey days had gotten him used to the limelight—as much as he’d ever be, at least—and used to how excited people got to see him and claims that associates would be so jealous; hearing from someone who didn’t care about the bragging rights, however, came as a breath of fresh air. The vague sarcasm that tainted his smile at his original remark faded, leaving his expression softer. “You’re pretty cool yourself, pal.”

If not for the big bite he’d just taken, Peter would’ve stumbled through a grateful response, but as it stood, a few vague but pleased gestures took its place. Steve was just happy the teen didn’t try to speak only to end up choking on his food. “You know what? May would be really impressed if I made this,” he gestured towards his plate, “for her, if you happen to have the recipe.”

“I’ll write it down for you,” Steve promised. Truly, it’d be less of a recipe and more just experimentation, but fortunately for Peter, his memory—enhanced by the serum—meant that recalling everything that went into it wouldn’t be difficult. Lunch went by relatively quietly after that, and once the dishes were cleared away, they settled down to work. “So, what all do you need help with?”

“Well, I just don’t really get drawing, I guess.” Without looking, Peter reached out for a pencil with his right hand, only to pause, glance over, and grab it with his left instead. “And our assignment is…”

Sitting down at the table and helping a kid with homework was a scenario Steve had thought about several times, both in the previous century and the current one—to think he’d nearly given up on it becoming a reality. He didn’t predict this outcome from meeting Tony’s intern, but he was grateful for it; it brought a certain, simple sense of peace.

An hour or so of instruction and demonstration helped Peter start to find his groove and make progress on his assignment, and Steve felt a bit of pride well up in his chest as he watched the teen work and improve; once he had a break, the soldier pulled out a new piece of paper and began writing out the recipe. No, perhaps this wasn’t exactly conventional, but he’d given up normal decades ago.

As the saying went, when one door closed, another one opened. And though he dwelled on the past and what could have been more than he’d admit to, he wouldn’t trade this chance for the world.

iv.

Given the super soldier’s preference for paper newspapers, Tony made certain to have them delivered to the Compound for him to read, a subtle gesture that Steve greatly appreciated. It was a good way to catch up and learn about all the changes the world went through—that, along with the numerous documentaries he’d watched over the past few years. As far as major events went, he felt pretty confident in his knowledge, though nuances still escaped him.

Granted, Tony’s reactions to some of the things his teenage intern said assured Steve that he wasn’t the only one who felt old and out of touch with the youngest generation.

Some names caught his attention more than others, and sometimes, he didn’t realize he zoned out until someone snapped him back to reality. “That looks like a riveting article,” the billionaire started as he poured a cup of coffee, glancing back at Steve, “though I doubt it takes fifteen minutes to read. I’d understand if it were a more risqué magazine, but the newspaper tends to be too tame.”

Steve gave his friend a long look before folding up the newspaper and setting it aside. “I was just thinking,” he excused.

“A rare phenomenon, truly.” Tony leaned back against the counter. “What’s the occasion?”

Whether or not this wound would prove unwise to open—well, the two gradually settled back into some level of normalcy since the revisions to the Accords went through, the tension nowhere near as palpable as when Steve had first returned. And who knew? Perhaps they could use a good heart to heart to build up trust once more. “Howard Stark.” There’d been an article in the paper about him, even after all this time. “Sometimes, I wonder whether or not he would’ve been a better father if he didn’t dedicate so much of his time to searching for me.”

It crossed his mind from time to time ever since Tony’s confession that he’d grown up hating the super soldier for it. As the billionaire took a long sip of coffee, he appeared torn between entertaining the subject or shelving it for later, but after a moment and with feigned lightness, he settled on saying, “Oh, I’m sure he would’ve found something else to obsess over.”

“Still, I—”

“Could’ve been there for me instead? I might’ve just hated you more if I had known you, Rogers. Considering how much I want to punch you sometimes _after_ I’ve grown into a reasonable adult—well, I wasn’t the easiest kid, to say the least.”

Steve lifted his hands a bit in surrender, his forearms resting on the glass table. The topic left them both tense, no matter how much the billionaire attempted to play it off, and it hadn’t been his intention to start an intense discussion so early in the morning. “I suppose that in a larger sense, I wonder why I’m alive. Why I survived in the ice for so long.”

Thinking about all that happened while he’d been frozen, all the bad that he could’ve helped avoid… Steve tried not to dwell, but that was far easier said than done. Could he have done more? It sure seemed like it at times.

“We both know the scientific explanation already,” Tony supplied, “super serum, yada yada. No point in going over that again. I’m sure SHIELD would be happy to find you a therapist if you want to get into the more philosophical reasons. I will say this, however: you saved the world about four times before you were thirty, and not many people can say the same. And most of those times were in this century.”

On his way out of the kitchen, Tony gave Steve’s shoulder a hefty pat, and Steve shot him a grateful smile. Even if the reminder of his technical youth always felt odd.

v.

“You know,” Bucky leaned in close, watching over Steve’s shoulder as he did the dishes, “I’m surprised it took us until this century to get together.”

Half under his breath, Steve snorted. “There were a lot of points where we could’ve gone either way.” As for himself, he could recall plenty of times where he did his utmost to convince himself that his feelings for his best friend were strictly platonic—or where he’d nearly blurted out how he felt but stopped short for some reason or another. He put a plate in the drying rack upon rinsing off all the soap. If the arms wrapped around his waist made it more difficult to move around properly—well, he wouldn’t complain.

He could all but see Bucky roll his eyes. “No, I’m surprised because it’s legal now,” he clarified, amusement coloring his voice. “Back then, if anyone took their eyes off you for five minutes, you’d go and find some law to break. I would’ve thought you’d be more into me then rather than now.”

“That’s not true,” the soldier defended himself. He did _not_ go around breaking rules left and right—not without any good reason, at least. Bucky’s dubious hum derailed any further attempts at an argument, and Steve settled on a huff. “Besides, I’ve never liked you because it was illegal, Buck.”

Smirking into the crook of his lover’s neck, Bucky didn’t let him off the hook that easily. “It’s not too late, though. We can go to a country where it’s still illegal and make out there,” he suggested, “since I know you’d love that.”

Steve flicked water at the other, relishing in the irritated response he received. “I’m _happy_ that society’s been progressing beyond that, even if there’s still room for improvement. So there’s no need for that.”

“I’m happy that I no longer have to invite two women along in order to go on dates with you.” At that, Steve paused—because he’d not been privy to that information before. Bucky chuckled a bit, then asked, “Did I never tell you that I don’t like women? Not in that regard, at least.”

As it turned out, even a hundred-year-old man learned something new every day, and Steve offered a soft nod as he processed this and the implications it had on many of his memories. Bucky always had been fond of double dates—and oddly successful in convincing young ladies to give him a chance. “You could’ve fooled me.” Which, he knew, was the point of being in the closet; on the other hand, he found it easier to ignore his feelings for Bucky _because_ he also had a general interest in women.

“Kind of the point, yeah.”

A thought struck him somewhat suddenly: if Steve hadn’t been frozen in ice for decades, he never would have known all this, never would’ve confessed to his best friend and found pleasure in quiet, domestic moments. And on a more morbid note, Bucky would either be dead or still a brainwashed assassin, as he doubted anyone else would fight so hard for his freedom and recovery.

Bucky had done so much for Steve when they were younger; if an unusually long nap meant that he had the chance to repay him, then he was happy to be alive—even if he sometimes struggled with the new era.

“I love you, Buck,” he said, just because he could.

“Love you too, punk.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a Tumblr [here](https://koolwhipped.tumblr.com/) if anyone is interested. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day! ♡


End file.
